Between the Uncomfortable Truths
by Michael Doyle

In the uncomfortable truths there were connections
Nothing compared to her open, honest reflections
On those things often very difficult to say
She never paid much mind to bringing controversy to the day

Perhaps it is that she truly said it best
That the world shouldn't measure artistry by success
It's hard to walk the line of the spiritual borders
That get caged in by a bi-polar disorder

The Rememberings that will never be forgot
Will stay part of the World's soul in what she brought
Beauty in a devastation of uncertain circumstance
Her words of love flow still in fine romance

Ahead of her time and deserving peace she never found
There was a fearlessness to Sinead that couldn't be bound
There are no words to express the world's loss
This ferocious honesty that forged her own cross

She had a voice that cracked stone in increments
And now she has become one with the starry firmament
No parent should ever live past the death of a child
It's an unholy feeling that leaves you defiled

Since that fateful day of her son's death
She lived undead as if with her last breath
Unable to find that needed place of healing
She bled her words Tweeted and soul revealing

Down an unrecognizable corridor of sorrow
Unable to bear new thoughts of tomorrow
She found that she must walk another way
Between death and rebirth to find another day

No longer properly alive; nor properly dead
The borders lying between filled her head
Sliding between dimensions and realities
Of conversations with peaceful and wrathful deities

There is a cosmic liberation beyond fearing
Post-conventional morality found in truly hearing
Past the remorse of show feeling entirely culpable
For regretting beyond the spiritually capable

Such losses leave a life feeling up-ended
And the usual way of life can become suspended
There is a karmic hazard when death closes in
As the extinction of illusion blows out the candle again

Liberation is believed by some as yet to come
In the fleeting moments of being entirely undone
With the sections and subsections of different orders
That want and wander on the edges of life's borders

The bardo of the moment of one's own death
Becomes the clear light of the reality of one's breath
Approached in the nearest attempt at approximation
To help guide one's path forward in circumspection

Until the bardo of experienced true reality
Becomes in its multiple forms of duality
The death and the between prior to re-birth
In the Yab-yum that coalesces wisdom on Earth

This twilight language seeks compassion and wisdom
In a mystical union that defies God's kingdom
Perhaps Sinead sought to overcome Maya's veils
To bring peace to her son that his understanding concealed

A parent surviving a child's death finds life upended
He was seen like soulmate and maybe her love transcended
Life to be brought down slow and drawn back restrained
It wouldn't be surprising if in losing her life...
        ...she sought his regained

(c) July 29, 2023   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved

(Please read Sinead's last several Tweets to best 
understand the direction of this poem as a seemingly 
plausible explanation for her unfortunate passing)